Inexorable Losses
by WistfulGallifreyan
Summary: Sherlock investigates a series of strange murders, while Torchwood three follows a mysterious disease. When the two cases converge, the world's only consulting detective must work with the institute to solve the problem. Rated T for later chapters. Johnlock pairing implied.
1. Chapter 1

_Hello, I'm going to give writing a longer story a go! I have a fair amount of the plot planned out so I'm pretty excited. Please read and review to help me improve my writing and to help me gauge interest, thanks! I'll do my best to publish at least biweekly. Oh and the rating may change, but I think T is a safe bet for now!_

* * *

The cadaver belonged to a thirty two year old female, judging by her short hair and simple dress she was either an exceedingly busy woman or a rather lazy one. Chipped nail polish also suggested that she didn't have much time for herself. Her face was aged and the effect was only magnified by the periorbital edema, most likely preset from a lack of sleep.

Looking around the house, which was well maintained, It was clear that a hectic lifestyle was more likely the problem.

She lay in her kitchen next to a shattered teacup. It was as if she had just fell dead without warning. A small crescent shaped burn adorned the lateral potion of her smallest finger.

What was unusual about this death, and the ones the police believed to be related to it, was that there was no clear cause of only unusual makings were small electrical burns on each of the victims.

At first, the deaths were booked as cardiac arrest as result of accidental electrocution.

The previous death had been what tipped the authorities off that these deaths may not be accidental after all. The victim was a patient in a state ward, he had been asleep when he was electrocuted and the nurses at the hospital reported it was unusual because the room in which he died lacked all electrical devices, even wall sockets were absent. The palm of his right hand was burnt.

This most recent victim was also the first one that Sherlock was examining.

Lestrade stood in the doorway, his back to Sherlock, keeping the other investigators out. John was watching Sherlock work, curiosity etched on his face.

Feeling John's eyes on him, Sherlock went about his work, happy to have him along on this case.

Sherlock lifted the woman's hand and examined the burn. Using a pen he looked at in her mouth, her teeth were stained, but it was a color unusual of tea, and the enamel was worn- it indicated that she was a regular coffee drinker.

"This woman had company when she died." Sherlock mused quietly. Lestrade turned around.

"We found no evidence of an intruder or a visitor."

"You weren't looking properly." Sherlock opened the cupboard above the sink and turned to John. "What do you see?"

"Sugar, cans of soup, hot chocolate, a lot of coffee, som-"

"Yes exactly, coffee! and what was in that mug?" Sherlock inclined his head slightly to indicate the shards of porcelain on the floor.

"Tea?" John replied. "There's a box right there on the counter." He mentioned, pointing it out.

"Yes a box with only five teabags and only two of them are gone."

"So she doesn't drink tea often, I still don't see how-"

"Oh isn't it obvious! She doesn't drink tea at all, judging by her teeth she's quite fond of coffee, another testament to her busy life style. She made the tea for a guest. "

I'm going to need the her cell phone." Sherlock told Lestrade. "I'd also like to see the rest of the bodies."

"They're all at the morgue, except for the first two who have already been buried"

"Come on, John" Sherlock said, and walked past Lestrade and out of the room.

John followed him, shrugging apologetically at Lestrade as he passed.

* * *

The florescent lights of the crowded morgue were bright, and four carts and their occupants were in the middle of the floor, their lightweight white plastic body bags splayed open around them, so as to provide Sherlock easy access.

"Good Morning, Sherlock. Hello John" Molly greeted them with a sweet smile, her hair was up and she set down some files near the feet of the nearest cadaver, and walked over to them.

"Molly" Sherlock said as we walked by to the nearest cadaver.

"Hello Molly, How are you?" John said smiling warmly at her and stopping to talk.

"I'm pretty well,And how are you two?"

"Glad to hear it. We're doing great. He-"

"John! Come look at this!" Sherlock shouted from his position leaning over the body.

"Sorry. I really ought to go see what he wants." John told her. It had become second nature to apologize on behalf of Sherlock's lack of manners.

Though, John suspected he was somehow jealous of Molly getting John's attention, even if it was just for small talk and pleasantries.

"What do you see?" It was a recurrent question, now that Sherlock had decided to train John in the art of observation and consulting detective work.

"More burns, almost looks like part of a hand print..."

"My thoughts exactly." The hint of a smile played at the corner of his lips.


	2. Chapter 2

Stretching, Gwen opened her eyes and rolled over to look at the clock. 6:25 a.m. The alarm would be going off in a few minutes. She sighed and tried to get up without disturbing Rhys. He stirred and mumbled into the pillows.

"Come on, I've got to get up, I have to go to work."

"You always have to go to work, can't you stay home today?" His eyes were still closed, his voice muffled from sleep.

"No, I really ought to go."

"The alarm hasn't gone off yet. Stay." He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her toward him, and she surrendered, allowing herself to be pulled into his embrace.

"It's going to go off any minute," She told him, laying near. She looked at him, his features illuminated only by the glow of the clock and the dawn breaking outside.

He was so good to her. While she was happy that she no longer had to lie to him about her job at Torchwood, she still felt guilty about spending so much time there. Another part of her knew that he couldn't understand, not anymore, not with everything she'd seen throughout the job.

Rationally, Rhys could understand what she did, he'd been to the hub, but on an emotional and philosophical level there was a part of her that he couldn't comprehend.

She supposed everyone was like that. It was experience that gave people different perspectives, but still sometimes it made her feel guilty, it gave her a connection with the team that she wasn't sure she could ever experience with Rhys.

"What are you thinking about?" He asked her, interrupting her thoughts, his eyes were open now. "You look sad."

"I'm not sad." She told him. "I just-that's the alarm." And she freed an arm to turn it off.

"Stay?"

"Oh, I'm sorry love, I have to go" She told him, leaving a quick soft kiss on his lips before getting out of bed. "But you enjoy your day off. Get enough rest for both of us."

"I'll try" He grinned at her as she got dressed, and she headed into the bathroom.

Once she was ready she leaned into the bedroom, "Bye Rhys, have a good day, I love you"

"I love you too, Stay safe." his voice was clouded with sleep again.

That was another new thing, since he learned of what she did at Torchwood. He was always worried about her, no matter how many times she tried to put his mind at ease, he still was afraid for her, and that broke her heart.

Grabbing her phone and blue tooth off of their chargers, she walked across the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge before sliding her gun onto the holster, shouldering her bag and heading out for the day.

* * *

"Good morning everybody." Jack walked into the conference room, setting a pile of papers on the table, Ianto following him in with a tray of coffees for the team.

"Alright, nothing new on the radar today. Owen and Ianto, there's a rouge weevil, west of the city. I need you two to deal with that. Also one of victims of last weeks Arcenstone incident is having a reaction to the Retcon, and gaining his memory back , so if you can re-administer before he ends up in a psych. ward, that would be great." He smiled at them all taking a sip of his coffee and then grinning at Ianto, his eyes lingering on the other man a few moments too long.

"Tosh and Gwen, there's been another victim of the blindness. I'd like you to interview her."

'The blindness' was the unofficial name they'd given to the case that they'd been working on for the last few days. All of the victims had sudden onset, and inexplicable blindness.

Naturally Owen had examined the victims, but medically there was nothing unusual, except for the fact that they were blind. Jack had suggested it was an alien parasite or pathogen, but they had found nothing of the sort.

The victim lived a short drive from the hub. Arriving at the house of the victim, they walked up the drive and knocked on the door.

"Hello, you must be the folks coming to see my daughter, she's inside" The woman moved out of the way to let them in.

"Thank you, yes that's us. I'm Tosh, and this is Gwen. Tell me, has she said or done anything unusual since the incident?" Tosh asked as she crossed the threshold and took in the apartment.

"Well naturally she's been quite upset, she's only twenty three. Would you like anything to drink? water? tea?"

"Sure, tea would be lovely." Tosh replied.

"Yes, please." Gwen agreed.

"Alright, well let me bring out Laura, so you can talk while I make the drinks." The woman replied, motioning for them to make themselves comfortable on the sofa, and then heading into a hallway.

"She seems to be taking this well" Gwen commented, sitting down and pulling a recorder out of her bag. The last interview had been terrible, the victim and his girlfriend had been completely distraught.

"File said she's a psychiatrist, she's not practicing anymore"

"Well, that's good for the daughter anyways." Just then the woman returned with her daughter.

The women walked slowly, guiding her out daughter with hands on her shoulders.

Laura walked hesitantly, eyes blank but face full of careful concentration, as they made their way to the chair across from the sofa.

"Alright dear, this is Tosh and Gwen, they're here to talk to you." She told her daughter, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, sadness flashing over her features. "I'll be in the kitchen just holler if you need anything."

"Hello Laura, I'm Gwen. Could you tell us about the day you lost your sight?"

"It happened the day before yesterday, I was at the university..." She plunged into her story

* * *

Laura's story had been similar to the others, seemingly out of the blue she had lost her sight. She claimed that as she took a stack of papers from the temporary secretary in the academic affairs office and she had been struck blind, and that there was nothing at all about that day that was unusual or strange.

Toward the end of her story she made an unexpected plea. She told them she had a friend who claimed to have lost his ability to taste properly, and implored them to visit him. When they asked more she told them he had made an interesting discovery, and refused to say more about it.

"What do you make of that?" Tosh asked, as soon as they got back into the Torchwood van. It was clear she was talking about the end of the interview.

"I don't know-It's very unusual. I suppose we should visit this friend, she seemed pretty serious."

"I think so too, might be a lead. We'll have to tell Jack."

"Yes we'll have him listen to the tape, see if he notices anything or recognizes the boy's name."

"I can pull up his file now, see if he has any record." Tosh told Gwen, pulling up the hub on the passenger seat computer, her fingers raced across the keyboard.

"Nothing at all. Police files say he's clear, UNIT doesn't have a file on him, and his personal records say he's a recent graduate, went to the same school as Laura, accounting major- he works as an intern at a local bank. Perfectly normal."


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm still not sure what that means," John exhaled flopping into his chair back at the flat, and sighing in exasperation.

"It means murder! Serial murder!" Sherlock exclaimed, hanging his coat by the door "It's just a matter now of figuring out how and who. Surely there is a connection between the victims..."

"We could talk to the families to look for connections."

"Oh god no! Those interviews would be painfully dull and weepy. They're recent losses most of the relatives would only focus on how much they loved or hated the deceased." He explained, disdain clear in his voice "Their perspectives would be skewed by nostalgia." He was standing still now looking out of the picture window that overlooked the streets. He was silent for several moments before John spoke.

"I'm going to make tea. Would you like a cup?" Sherlock didn't respond and John figured he was lost in his thoughts, he got up and went to the kitchen to put the water on to boil.

John returned having put tea on to boil returned a few minutes later and he sat down across from Sherlock, who was gazing at the wall hands steepled under his chin.

"Any thoughts?" John asked lightly.

"There are always thoughts,"

"You know what I mean- about the case,"

"Several." John grew distracted and found himself watching Sherlock's neck, he could see the almost imperceptible flutter of a pulse there. He tore his gaze away when Sherlock lowered his hands, and picked up the tea cup off of the end table.

"Do you have any thoughts?"

"There are always thoughts." John said, repeating Sherlock before he was conscious of what he was doing. John felt his cheeks flush and he shook his head slightly then took a sip of tea. Finally lifting his gaze to meet Sherlock's he was relieved to see that a smirk pulled up the corner of his lips.

"You sound more like me everyday."

John said nothing but looked at Sherlock, who was sitting in the chair, slightly reclined, brow relaxed now that he was no longer considering the case. John thought he could still see the shadow of a dimple on the other man's face.

His concentration was broken by the garbled whistling of a teapot and John got up to turn it off.

In the kitchen he poured the steaming water over teabags and had turned to wait for them to steep when he saw Sherlock had followed him.

He looked at John for a long moment before heading to the refrigerator. John raised an eyebrow as he pulled out a brown paper bag labeled 'Turkey on rye'. Sherlock never ate when he was on a case.

Sherlock walked across the kitchen and cleared a space off of the table to set the bag on. It was not a sandwich that he pulled out but rather a human finger.

"What happened to correct labels Sherlock, didn't we talk about this after the university case?" John sighed, he had almost decided to take the 'sandwich' to work yesterday. He smiled despite himself as he thought of what the other physicians at work would have thought when he pulled out a finger expecting a lunch.

"That case was different- Plus, you don't like rye bread." Sherlock explained definitively, as if that justified it. "I'm going to run an experiment- see if I can't figure out how those electrical burns got on the victims." He got up and walked over pecking John on the cheek and then heading into the sitting room to steal a light bulb out of one of the lamps.

"Care to go to the fish market?" Sherlock inquired from the other room.

"For what?" John asked him walking out to find Sherlock dismantling yet another light.

"Squid!"

"Squid?"

"They have great neurons."

"Ah!, alright let me get my wallet and jacket" John had worked in a lab briefly as an undergraduate for a professor who had done research on the potassium channels in neurosoma compared to those in the axon. Squid neurons were large, and their size mad them an ideal model system for research. He headed to the bedroom as he contemplated what Sherlock thought he was onto.

The day was chill, and the passerby's breaths rose in the air as they hurried about. Sherlock watched an obese man getting into a cab. He had just arrived at the conclusion that the man was on some unscrupulous errand when he noticed the ambulance sirens that he was hearing were approaching. It was very close judging by the frequency and pitch, Doppler effect never failed for measuring distance, he watched as they approached the flat and slowed to a stop out front.

"John." Sherlock mumbled, "John!" He said louder rushing to the door and out of the apartment, panic rising in his chest. "It's Mrs. Hudson!" He continued already half way down the stairs.

John turned and hurried out of the flat catching up with Sherlock at the bottom of the flight.

"It's locked!" He shouted backing up in the hallway and before charging the door, which opened upon the impact of his weight. "Mrs. Hudson!?"

"Sherlock? John? I'm in here." Her voice was quiet and full of fear, and Sherlock followed it to the sitting room, John an arms length behind.

Sherlock rushed to her side with John and they crouched down besides her.

"What's wrong?" John asked.

"I...I can't see."


	4. Chapter 4

_Hello lovely readers and followers, I'm glad to see some interest in this story now! I almost didn't continue it. So without further ado here is chapter four-enjoy!_

* * *

As Gwen approached Jack's office back at the hub, she was relieved to pass Ianto on the way out. For a few weeks she had suspected that Ianto and Jack were in some sort of relationship. It was nothing outright but Jack threw the coffee boy more glances and they met each others eyes a little too often. Jack was always transparent like that. He was in many ways still a boy, especially when it came to relationships, flirting, and the people he was interested in. He had no shame in showing his interest he was more than adept at using his looks and his charm to his advantage.

It was no surprise then that on this occasion that as Ianto saw Gwen he rushed by, and when he glanced up to say "hello" she saw that he was blushing, a nervous smile deepening his dimples.

She shook her head with a smile, and repressed a comment. Walking the rest of the way slowly as to buy Jack some time, she knocked on the door when she approached.

"Jack it's Gwen, we just got back from the interview and think we might have another lead,"

"Come in."

His office was disorganized as usual, the hand he kept was suspended in it's bubbling bath of preservatives on a shelf behind him. She looked around, the bulletin board was overwhelmed with papers and the bookshelves full. The mess made a somehow pleasant contrast with the sharp edges of the grey, black, and glass that predominated the furniture in the room.

Jack was in his desk chair. His military jacket hung over the corner of the other door that lead out of his office. The man himself was reclined confidently in his chair, he was wearing black trousers and a navy button up shirt- the top two buttons remained undone, one arm resting behind his head. He smiled cheekily at Gwenas she raised an eyebrow. It was a mischievous smile that told her he knew exactly what she was thinking, and that simultaneously confirmed her thought.

"Right," she started "Tosh and I interviewed the victim. Story was the same as usual..."

She recounted the interview and explained that Tosh was downstairs uploading the transcripts to the data base and doing a more thorough search for any background on Laura's friend.

"Yes," Jack confirmed "I think you should speak to him as soon as time allows. But first you really ought to talk to Owen he has a new theory. I told him it's a crackpot idea but he insists, so I told him I'd let you know" He shook his head, the young doctor was full of snide remarks and sarcasm, but he was not unintelligent. If he believed something to be a possibility, it meant that it probably was.

"I will. Are you-?" Gwen began half mumbling the words, and it was Jack's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Never mind. Is Owen here?"

"Yeah, he should be in the autopsy bay."

* * *

Owen was separating spleen of the weevil from the mesentery so that he could harvest samples. To Owen's surprise the Weevil immune system was incredibly similar to that of humans. Though he noticed they had much stronger immune systems, most likely a result of their home planet, it was this that allowed the creatures to live so successfully in the city sewers. Perhaps if he could isolate the compound that was concentrated in the lymphoid tissue he could better understand how it contributed to the compound influence on the hematopoietic creation of particularly potent leukocytes...

"Owen?"

He looked up from his work, It was Gwen. He had almost freed the spleen and needed to do so before he could talk. He grunted and returned to cut through the thin tissue. He placed the organ in a plastic bag and removed his gloves.

"Jack sent you?" He asked her, mildly frustrated at having been interrupted in his work, but at the same time he did want to tell Gwen and Tosh about his theory on the 'Blindness' case. He resealed the body in it's bag, and slid it over to the drawer.

"Yeah, said you had some sort of theory?" Owen could tell by the way she said it that Jack had already told her it was insane. He hated that man sometimes.

"I do. where's Tosh? I think she should hear it too." Owen inquired without looking up. He was now at the oversized metal sink,his back to Gwen, washing the stainless steal tools he had been using to harvest tissue samples.

"She was uploading the interview, she should be done by now." Gwen raised a hand to her ear, and pressed the button on her bluetooth. "Tosh?"

"Are you done with the transcript?" Gwen paused for a minute "Okay want to meet Owen and I in the conference room, he has a theory for the 'Blindness'?"

"Alright" Owen said cleaning up the last of his supplies and hanging up his lab coat. "After you" He motioned for Gwen to leave, they had been together before, and that was always between them making an unspeakable tension between them that was especially clear when they were alone.

* * *

Tosh settled herself at the table for the second time that day, pulling out a mirror to freshen up her face. She looked around, the table was still scattered with papers and empty or partially empty coffee cups from this morning's meeting. It was strange how much this job at Torchwood had come to mean to her, she thought maybe it was the people. There was an unspoken solidarity that seemed to resonate through them all. It was articulated not in words, but in deeds and endeavors.

"Hi Tosh, all uploaded?" Gwen asked taking a seat next to her, while Owen sat across from them, and activated the larger screens n the room via a tablet. Tosh smiled to herself, she had set that up for him one day,and she recalled the day wistfully. He had been almost pleasant that day, as they sat in the hub, just the two of them, having idle conversations and sharing stories.

"Yes, everything's good to go. Did you talk to Jack about that boy?"

"I did, he said he thinks we ought to go as soon as it's convenient."

"Alright" Owen spoke to get their attention, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. The screen was now filled with a document of Owen's notes.

"I'm thinking that there might be only one person infected with either a virus or a parasite. Instead of killing the host alone it is somehow able to transmit symptoms, but not the disease itself, to those that patient zero comes into contact with,

"That would also explain the pattern, all of the cases of the blindness have been extremely localized so far, this suggests there has been only one patient with the original affliction. Now it's safe to assume that this patient is not blind-"

"Are there any examples of something like this already present in terrestrial biology?" Tosh questioned, she wasn't sure Owen's idea made sense, though they had certainly seen stranger things.

She was also thinking about the potential lead on their case and if deprivation of a completely different sense could be attributed to such a theory. It didn't seem likely that the two were related if the lead did turn out to be more than a mere coincidence.

"Not of terrestrial origin, no," He looked momentarily off put by the question, but continued to talk as he pulled the record from the digital archive and displayed it on the screen "though Torchwood records indicate that in 1946 there was an outbreak of a xenovirus dubbed RFOCD-124 that had a similar pattern. Everyone who encountered the original patients developed symptoms and died, but the group originally infected remained healthy making in hard to pinpoint exactly who these carriers were."

"What were the symptoms?" Gwen asked sitting up, she was now scribbling notes onto a legal pad, brows furrowed, it was clear to Tosh she was becoming worried.

"Symptoms were similar to obsessive compulsive disorder, though that's a bit of a misnomer because the symptoms eventually developed into full on psychosis shortly before death occurred."

"So." Tosh began meeting Owen's eyes. "It was a neurological based disease or virus like the blindness?"

"Exactly!" Owen agreed a genuine smile gracing his features, reclining in his chair and stretching his arms before sitting up again. "Yes that's how I came across this case in the first place, I was looking up neurological pathologies in the archive and-"

"How was it treated?" Gwen asked, and Tosh saw Owen's enthusiasm fade as he became solemn and grim again. Tosh sighed inaudibly and waited for his answer.

"It wasn't," He replied. "or at least there's no record of what happened."

"Well, I'm sure we'll figure it out." Tosh said, looking at Owen with a tentative smile.

"Yeah, We'll keep you updated and I'll look into it when I have the time." Gwen assured him.

"It's an interesting theory." Tosh agreed.


	5. Chapter 5

"Listen if you don't tell me right now what happened, I swear you will rue the day you decided to become a medical doctor!" Sherlock was furious and he was towering over the doctor in the hallway of the emergency department. He was not shouting but he spoke in a carefully controlled voice loud enough to embarrass the physician, the muscles in him neck and jaw taught and his firsts balled. John had left for two minutes to speak to a colleague and had returned to this.

"We're running tests sir. If you could just sit back down..." The doctor's voice was controlled as well, no doubt years of experience with upset family members, but his eyes betrayed him. It was clear he was afraid.

"Don't tell me to-"

"Sherlock," John intervened placing a hand on his shoulder. He didn't know the doctor but knew Sherlock's tactics were unjustified.

"He's not-"

"Sherlock," John repeated gently. Sherlock allowed himself to be steered away. It was clear to John he was furious, he could feel Sherlock's back muscles tense as he led him to some chairs to wait.

After they were seated Sherlock was quiet for a long while, John kept his arm across the other man's shoulders and tried to hold his hand, but Sherlock didn't react, he just stared at the wall. He wasn't speaking, he was hardly moving except for the steady and quick rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. It was abundantly clear to John that Sherlock was seething, and this terrified him. John longed to comfort him, to ask what was wrong, but he knew better and so he waited.

"He's an idiot, John" Sherlock finally broke the silence. "I need to know what know what's wrong."

When they had arrived at Saint Bart's, Sherlock had caused enough of a disturbance to get them both kicked out of Mrs. Hudson's room, and John didn't know many of the doctors in that department. The few he did know didn't happen to be working that day, and the result was that his position at the hospital held very little sway over their being able to see Mrs. Hudson.

So they were barred from Mrs. Hudson's room until a diagnosis could be made, Sherlock for once seemed to have forgotten completely about their case.

"Sherlock, they're running tests, I'm sure they'll tell us as soon as they know anything."

Sherlock got to his feet, "I'm going to find them,"

"What? Sherlock you've already made enough of a disturbance when we arrived , I don't think-"

"I'm going to apologize." He explained, and John stared. Sherlock was not one to apologize especially to people he considered to be 'idiots'. Before he could respond Sherlock walked up to the reception desk, and John quickly moved to follow him.

* * *

There was a new receptionist. Shift change had occurred a couple of minutes ago and the woman who arrived looked flustered as she read through a stack of notes. Sherlock had been waiting for this so that he could inquire about their landladies whereabouts. This women wouldn't recognize him from earlier.

"Hello," He smiled, he could feel John's eyes on him, and sense the other man's apprehension. "My name is William and this is my brother Oscar. We're Mrs. Hudson's sons. She arrived a few hours ago. Something's wrong with her eyesight." The women looked them over suspiciously, she was brighter than she appeared.

"We're half brothers,"John offered in explanation. Sherlock was glad John had caught on to his scheme.

"Alright, just a moment" She typed something into the computer, hands moving deftly over the keyboard, it was clear she had done this for a long time. "She's on the third floor getting an MRI"

"Thank you" Sherlock told her, and he headed down the hall toward the visitor elevators.

"Oscar?" John asked, making a face as the elevator doors closed.

"I thought it was fitting," Sherlock smirked, and John shook his head.

"Very funny,"

The elevator doors opened to reveal another hospital corridor and Sherlock led the way toward where a sign indicated the radiology department was.

There was a waiting room almost identical to the one in the emergency department this one occupied by patients, rather than by their families.

Mrs. Hudson was in a wheelchair, hands occupied by a blanket in her lap she was dressed in a pinstriped hospital gown. She looked forward blankly, a small frown pulling at her mouth. Sherlock rushed to her side.

"Mrs. Hudson. It's us." Sherlock told her speaking softly and placing a hand on her shoulder. "How are you? Have they been treating you alright?"

"Oh yes, I'm okay, everyone at the hospital's been really nice to me." She started, and her brows furrowed, she turned to face Sherlock. "I'm surprised they let you back in, you caused quite a ruckus downstairs"

"Have the doctors told you anymore news?" John intervened.

"No nothing, I'm going to get scans now, they want to see of the visual part of my brain is still active..."

"Visual cortex and occipital lobes." Sherlock answered. "Have they done a biopsy?"

"No I- I don't think so. Sherlock, do you know what's going on?" She asked him.

"No, not yet." He replied, his mind racing over the possibilities, frantically trying to piece it together. He didn't have enough to go on and her story was unremarkable. He had looked through her flat, while John took the ambulance with her and had found nothing.

"Martha Hudson, functional MRI?" a nurse had appeared, in the doorway, she scanned the waiting room.

"Over here." Sherlock answered before she could speak and he moved to push her wheel chair. The nurse gave him a questioning look. "We're her sons."

"Oh nonsense!" Mrs. Hudson replied at this, and Sherlock sighed. "They're my friends and lodgers." She smiled.

The nurse shrugged and scribbled a note onto her clipboard. It was clear she hadn't read the flag about them on the electronic chart.

* * *

Mycroft sat in his office, reading through the morning's brief. He noticed one of the pages was dull red- the color of UNITs newsletters. He shifted in his chair and read the letter over, it was one of the few governmental agencies that he knew little about.

The so called Unified Intelligence Taskforce spanned several countries. He knew the basics but didn't bother to do further research, considering the organization to be something of a large scale joke existing mostly for the potential threat of an invasion, he didn't believe it to be worthy of his time.

Nothing new. He skimmed an outline of defense measures and technological advances, and then read the first paragraph of a proposal for extraterrestrial negotiation standards, when his cell phone rang, and he looked at the caller I.D. It was Sherlock's number. He sighed at set the papers down.

"Hello, brother of mine." he said, but it was John who answered. He was in an ambulance, Mrs. Hudson had gone blind.

He could always rely on John to keep him updated on major events. If it wasn't for him, he would know less than he did about his younger brother's life. The call was brief John explained the situation and hung up with a "Just thought you should know." He closed the phone and went to take a drink of his coffee, before becoming aware that the paper cup was leaking.

"Dammit," He murmured, tossing the remainder of his drink in the trash and standing to get a paper towel form the minibar that occupied one corner of the large room. He mopped up the drops that beaded up on his suit, he was quite happy he had decided to go for one with water and stain resistant material, and then headed back to the desk.

He dabbed up the remaining spill and something on the now deeper red and damp paper caught his eye. In the UNIT memo section which was up until now so consistently blank he wondered why they included it, there was a note.

'Reliable intelligence operatives inform us that Torchwood 3 is investigating a series of seeming unrelated incidents of blindness. Action Taken- continued surveillance.'


	6. Chapter 6

It was decided that they would meet with Laura's friend tomorrow, since he was at work and there was no reason to pull him out of his job. So Gwen and Tosh stayed and the hub and researched the case for the remainder of the day.

Having just finished reading through the files Owen had told them about Gwen glanced at the clock, it was nearly five.

Quiet days in this job were exceedingly rare, and having read all she could find, Gwen's thoughts wandered to Rhys. He would probably be sitting on the sofa watching television and eating crisps, maybe they could go out to dinner together. It had been a few weeks since they'd been able to have a long conversation and just enjoy each others company.

"I think I'm going to get going, It's Rhys's day off. He'll be happy to have me home before nightfall for once."

"Yeah, you should," Tosh replied glancing up from the book she had open in front of her.

Gwen knew Tosh wouldn't leave early, she had an intense devotion to the job and seemed especially interested in Owen's theory. She had been interrupting their research every few hours to bring up information that might relate and get Gwen's thoughts on it.

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow, then" She said shuffling the papers hat were spread out over her workstation into a pile and taking them under her arm.

"Bye, have fun."

* * *

Gwen opened her eyes to the dawn light and the distant beeping of her alarm clock.

She and Rhys had fallen asleep on the living room floor. They had went out to eat at Rhys's favorite steakhouse, and then had went home to watch a film, a romantic comedy, during which they had laughed together. They ended the night with romance of their own . It had been a perfect night.

Warm and comfortable in the cocoon of blankets and her husband's embrace she rolled over in his arms to face him. He was awake, a smile forming in the corners of his eyes.

"You are so beautiful."

"You're pretty handsome yourself." She told him resting a hand on his chest, the faint sound of the alarm in the distance increasing in frequency.

"Oh, am I?" He smirked, his eyes glancing down to her lips.

"mmhmm" She mumbled, closing the distance between them, a moment later their lips found each other.

It started slow and lazy, then awoke with them and deepened. Soon it was all a few moments urgent passion articulated in interlocked lips and curled toes that settled into softness. His hands found the small of her back and pulled her closer, while hers found his neck and shoulder.

Gwen pulled away, she could feel her cheeks flush with the kiss and his caress, feeling lightheaded and content she rested her forehead against his, their breaths mingling for several long moments before opening her eyes. The alarm clock had stopped.

"I have to get up" she said, not moving.

"I know, So do I."

"Not this early, you don't."

"We can have breakfast together." He told her, shifting to break their intertwined embrace enough to let cold air in, which helped to wake her up and she climbed out of the bed they had made on the floor. This was classic Rhys, one of the things she loved about him.

"I'm going to shower," She told him, the wooden floor was cold against her bare feet as she picked up their clothes which were scattered around the room.

"Want company?" He asked with a mischievous grin.

* * *

"Almost as good as Ianto's" Gwen told Rhys, sipping the coffee he had made for them.

"Hey have you seen this?" Rhys said, ignoring her comment. He was reading the paper.

"What's that?"

"A bunch of mysterious deaths in London, possible homicide by electrocution, Seems like the sort of thing you would work on."

"There's nothing extraterrestrial about murder unfortunately," Gwen said, "Speaking of- I have to get going."

"Already?" He teased. "Well... I guess since you're off to save the world, I'll let you go."

"Thanks" She said, gathering her stuff, "See you later, I love you."

"I love you too. Stay safe."

* * *

Tosh sat in the passenger seat of the van her delicate hands racing over the keyboard of the dashboard computer. Gwen was behind the wheel. Overnight, she had done a fair amount of research and checked the data on the rift. Biological indicators revealed a slight spike in living material passing through but there was nothing significant. Even if the cause of the blindness was a living pathogen, she doubted it would show up as anything that would deviate from the normal fluctuations.

"Do you think it's neurological?"

"What?" Tosh asked looking up from the screen. "It has to be doesn't it?"

"The blindness does, but that could be a side effect. I mean the underlying cause."

"It could be, do you know if Owen got the results from the flow cytometry he was running on the biopsies to determine EGF receptor density?" Tosh had been following Owen's work on the case carefully, and had spend a good part of the early morning with him in the lab learning about the experiments he was running. She had finally succumbed to exhaustion and returned to her flat for a few hours of sleep before the morning's meeting, but Owen hadn't been there.

"I don't know" Gwen mumbled distractedly as she parked the van in front of an apartment complex, that was part of the university housing. "we're here."

They rang a doorbell and waited for a few moments. A college aged boy clad in jeans, and a dress shirt half stumbled and half leapt down the stairs and opened the door in grandiose fashion.

"Ted Nowell?" Tosh inquired.

"Torchwood?" He countered, taking them both by surprise .

"Yes, that's us. How did you?" Tosh began, they had gone the usual route and secured false paper work from the World Health Organization claiming that they were investigating. There shouldn't be anyway for Ted to know who they really were. Then again,with Owen ordering Pizza's under 'Torchwood' they were hardly maintaining the highest security.

"My flatmate's big into conspiracy theories," He laughed as he led them up the stairs. "He never shuts up about you guys, I never actually believed him, but then you do have the logo stamped into your truck."

"Is he here, now?"

"No, he's got classes."

He showed them into the flat and sat down, and a small table near window.

"Right, so I'm Gwen and this is Tosh." Gwen began, taking a seat as Tosh did the same. "We spoke too your friend Laura a few days ago and she said you might have an some information, something about losing your ability to taste.

"How is she?"

Watching the Ted, who was leaning back in his chair. Tosh realize there was something wrong, that he was lying about something. His discomfort was almost tangible in the air between them.

She shot Gwen a glance but she wasn't looking and so she missed it. She hoped she was just being paranoid and that he was simply in disbelief that their organization existed, a moment later she learned the truth.

"She's doing well."

"Right" He said sitting up a little and gathering his nerve, all of the theatrics that he had displayed greeting them and leading them up the stair gone. He took a deep breath and his brow furrowed and he ran a hand through his dark hair.

"I didn't lose my sense of taste. I took somebody else's."


	7. Chapter 7

"Phone, John" Sherlock extended a hand without diverting his gaze as they walked through the hospital corridor. Mrs. Hudson would be staying overnight and then she would return home tomorrow. Despite Sherlock's incessant attempts to harass or intimidate various members of the hospital staff into more information, he finally arrived at the conclusion that they really didn't know anymore than they were already telling him.

John searched through his pockets for the mobile. He was no longer surprised that Sherlock could figure out he had it. It was also likely, John thought uncomfortably as he handed the phone over, that Sherlock knew he had made calls. He always knew little things like that. John was coming to believe it was instinct almost as much as observation though he would never admit such a notion to Sherlock.

"You've called Mycroft." It wasn't a question.

"I thought he should know," John shrugged, trying to come off as nonchalant.

"Well, he's called back," Sherlock continued, "Several times, and he's left texts." As they walked into the elevator he handed John the phone for him to read.

_Sherlock, Return my calls. -MH _

_We need to talk. It is important. -MH_

_It's about Mrs. Hudson. -MH_

_Call me as soon as you can. -MH_

While John was scrolling through the texts from Mycroft, Sherlock reached over and started going through his pocket. He opened his mouth to protest but before he could manage the quip, Sherlock had extracted John's phone, and met John's gaze with a self satisfied smirk.

"You could always just ask to see my phone," John had to suppress a grin.

"Not nearly as fun," Sherlock replied, opening up John's phone and going through his texts as well, as they exited the elevator. "He texted you a half dozen times as well," He commented tossing the phone back to John.

* * *

"221 Baker Street," Sherlock told the cabbie as he climbed in next to John. Mycroft would most likely be at their flat sitting in waiting. Sherlock's mind raced as he thought about what Mycroft could know about Mrs. Hudson. He had access to all of the police records, any governmental files, he was in contact with an entire slew of international corporations both official and unsanctioned. What was it he could have found that the hospitals didn't know? There was only one solution-the blindness was not a biological or medical accident but rather it was intentional. Then why had the hospital seen so no clear evidence? Whoever the culprit, he or she was likely to be intelligent or at least experienced. Sherlock hadn't noticed anything unusual in Mrs. Hudson's flat that could suggest an intruder-he made a note to check again. Perhaps it was something slow acting. Even so, who would commit a crime in which the sole intent was to cause blindness? Sherlock could understand homicide. There were a thousand reasons for murder but this had to be something else...

"We're here," John said, gingerly shaking his arm, and interrupting his thoughts.

He blinked and stepped out of the cab, and headed into their flat. He walked up the stairs and, testing the door handle, found it unlocked.

"Thought I'd save you the trouble of having to locate your house keys," His brother's voice could be heard even before they saw him, as he pushed open the door.

Mycroft was sitting in Sherlock's chair with an ankle resting over his knee, and his umbrella occupied the place on the coat rack which Sherlock normally hung his jacket.

"Right, glad to see you're as subtle and circumspect as always. Why are you here?"

"Oh? Not even an ounce of idle conversation or social niceties? We haven't spoke in person for months."

"I know as well as you do that small talk is trite and inefficient. Get to the point."

"Well, I wouldn't be so quick to put off someone with information, when will you learn?" Mycroft tisked.

"Mycroft, You're only here because you have information that you fully intend to share, you don't do 'leg work' and are only proving yourself to be an insolen-"

John cleared his throat. He was still standing near the door whereas Sherlock had moved to sit in John's chair. John gave Sherlock his is-sibling-rivalry-necessary-right-now look, and Sherlock stopped speaking and rerouted his sentence.

A smile spread over Mycroft's features, as he realized Sherlock actually listened to John. The smile grated against Sherlock's nerves and he looked away, it took all of his effort not to tell his brother to get out. He wanted to know what he had to say, and they both knew it. They were at an impasse.

He made the conscious effort to relax, unclenching his jaw and sitting back in the chair a bit, he mimicked the posture of the serene and unbothered trying to appear halcyon like the greek goddess who bore that name. It was an obscure confutation- the story of Halcyon was one of death to troubled seas, and apathetic gods who divulged in an allowance in the name of love...

"Better." Mycroft said into the silence. Sherlock sat stonily waiting him for him too say more, it was abundantly clear that he was rather enjoying dragging the event out. Sherlock's mind continued to arrive at dozens of possible conclusions.

John pulled in a kitchen chair and took a seat, after several more excruciatingly long moments during which Mycroft drank the tea he had no doubt prepared himself in their kitchen, he finally spoke.

"What have you heard about Torchwood?"

"Not much." Sherlock shrugged and his expression was clearly one of distaste. "Their name's always tied up in tabloid stories of invasions and internet conspiracy sites."

"That's right, but what if they were more than an amateur fabrication?" Mycroft was speaking slowly, drawing this out, enjoying the game a little too much. Sherlock chanced a glance at his flatmate who shrugged and gave a nearly imperceptible shake of the head.

"So the organization exists. How is this related, did the _aliens_ take Mrs. Hudson's sight?" He nearly spat the words, growing impatient with the intentional derision.

"I am stating the obvious in terms you deem incomprehensible, your failure to accept it is not my problem." He shook his head and pulled a file out of his briefcase handing it too Sherlock. It contained the UNIT newsletter.

Sherlock read over it, he knew about UNIT of course, it was defense agency that spent effort preparing for the possibility of invasion, with a focus on research and development off of the groundwork of foreign technology. Only now did the idea that foreign could mean extraterrestrial cross sherlock's mind. He pushed the thought away, that was ridiculous.

"What else do you know about Torchwood three?" Sherlock asked handing the document back, and sitting up a little, the entire notion was ridiculous.

"Not much. Just that they're small, based in Cardiff, they occasional make messes that UNIT cleans up after, they stay under the radar well enough, erasing themselves from any public databases they show up in." That was honestly all he had, he had never bothered to do research, UNIT was international and often even his influence was tenuous at best when trying to extract information from them. He had little conviction in the notion of alien threat, but he enjoyed seeing Sherlock agonize at the idea that things might exist beyond his knowledge. Of course he wouldn't accept it without blatant or rationally implicit evidence of the ruling out of all other possibilities.

"Do you have an address?"

"No." He lied. He knew they had a base rumored to be right below the Roald Dahl Plass. "They'll come here to interview Ms. Hudson, you'll just have to be patient." He said with a smirk getting to his feet.

"Is that all?" Sherlock asked, getting to his feet as well, irritation welling up once more.

"I should think so" And with that he showed himself out of their flat, Sherlock watched him climb into an elegant unmarked car that had appeared outside, and then turned to John.

* * *

"What was that about?" John asked breaking the silence that had filled the flat.

"You heard the conversation ." Sherlock turned from the window running a hand through his hair. It as apparent to John that he was frustrate by the new development, his mercurial eyes seemed dark and revealed the frantic look he got when a lead proved evasive.

John sighed it was no use trying to reason with him when he was in this state. Dusk was arriving so he went to turn on the light, to no effect. He had forgotten Sherlock, in his excitement about the case, had removed them. Sometimes it felt very much that he was charged with looking after a child. He picked up Mycroft's cup off the end table and carried it into the kitchen to wash. Their mugs from this morning were still on the counter awaiting the tea that had been interrupted by their landlady's scream.

He knew Sherlock for being as austere and arrogant as he was, was easily effected. He put pot of water on the stove hoping he could coax him into eating some pasta before he was completely absorbed into the case. He hated seeing him that way, it was nearly as bad as when he lacked a case and lapsed into substance abuse. No, he corrected his thoughts, nothing was quite so bad as that.

* * *

_Alright we're getting really close to when Sherlock and John meet the Torchwood team. I'm very excited to write that bit, I have some interesting ideas planned out! _

_As always, thanks for reading, please don't hesitate to leave a review, I'm always open to any questions, comments, or suggestions. _


	8. Chapter 8

It took Gwen and Tosh a moment to recover from these words, even so they were used to the unexpected, both agents composed themselves a moment later. They exchanged a glance and Gwen spoke.

"You took their sense of taste. Could you tell me how?" Gwen asked with a slight echo of apprehension. She was trying to piece this together, but the more they learned the less it made sense.

"I don't know how. I thought it was just a strange coincidence with the first one, but then it happened again and again..." He trailed off looking genuinely upset, he was staring at the wall with a dismayed expression clearly his thoughts on the memories of the recent events. "I realized the only common denominator was me."

"Oh don't worry dear, We'll figure it out." She replied reaching out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"No!" He said abruptly jumping out of his chair and taking several unsteady steps away from where they were seated. " I- I don' want it to happen to you too."

"Listen Ted, We're Torchwood and as you've figured out it's our job to figure things like this out. We would like you to come with us." Tosh told him. She knew that if he disagreed, they would need to take him to the hub regardless, but he seemed like a nice kid and it would be much easier if he cooperated. He was clearly intelligent so she ardently hoped he would agree.

"Okay." He said simply, looking back and forth between them.

"Why don't you pack an overnight bag?" Gwen suggested kindly, it was clear Ted was terrified and indecisive despite giving them an affirmative.

"Overnight?" The boy who had been so jovial, if not a bit histrionic, when they arrived was now speaking in one word sentences.

"Better to have what you need with you just in case," Gwen told him smiling. This was part of the job she hated, having to lie all of the time. Once they had him in custody, it was likely they would hold Ted for several days, if not until the case was solved. Gwen, Ianto, and Tosh had talked about creating a nicer holding cell for situations like this, but they never seemed to have the time.

Ted nodded and headed into another room.

"He'll be alright." Tosh said, her reassurances based in the fact that with a healthy dose of Retcon he wouldn't remember his time at Torchwood.

"Oh I know that, I can still feel bad," Tosh looked at her sympathetically. Gwen knew she still had some adapting to do with the job, but she had come a long way. She knew the others on the team had the same problem. A variety of very human emotions often complicated their unearthly job.

They sat at the table in comfortable silence. It didn't make sense that the deprivation of taste was caused by Ted. Was a person responsible for the deprivation of sight in the other cases? This did fit in well with Owen's theory, but how was the symptom set transmitted, and how were the patient zeros created? How many more of these afflicted were out there?

Ted returned from the back room with a backpack thrown over his shoulder. He looked much more composed now, bolstered by the few moments that he had to himself.

"I'm ready." He told them.

* * *

Ianto Jones, typically a paragon of smooth professionalism had been poking fun at Jack as he went about his doing Ianto's chores as a result of a lost bet.

"This damn thing doesn't make any sense," Jack told Ianto as he pressed another button. He was trying to figure out how to work the shiny espresso machine.

"Well you shouldn't have been so confident sir," Ianto was watching Jack struggle with the machine, leaning against the wall, a satisfied smirk on his lips. Maybe the captain would have a new appreciation after today. "You've been around for a while, but that doesn't make me completely inexperienced, always thinking you could dazzle me with your skill. You never thought I might have a few tricks of my own."

"It was a very close race. We can test that theory again, show me what other tricks you have up your sleeve?" The captain said with his most suggestive grin. It was true they'd been together a few times, but until last night Jack thought he had the Welshman figured out-he was pleasantly surprised to learn how wrong he was. He looked up from the machine and meeting Ianto's gaze, before letting his eyes slide down his clean shaven neck to his snug fitting jacket and underlying dress shirt...

Ianto walked over to where Jack was.

"Is that a challenge?" He asked raising an eyebrow. They were now very close. Jack turned around to face him and looked him over appreciatively. Ianto moved closer until they were nearly embracing, he moved hand behind Jack's back adjusting the machine to it's proper settings to brew the latte that Jack had failed at making half a dozen times already.

Before the machine even had time to start, Jack's lips found the other mans neck and he trailed breathy kisses and soft bites up until he found Ianto's lips. Their mouths met and the kiss became imbued with passion and the heat of the moment seemed amplified with memories of the previous night.

Ianto's stomach pooled with desire and he moved closer closing the space that was left between them, Jack lost his balance and took a step back. They hardly noticed the clanging as a few mugs fell off of the table and onto the floor.

Ianto's fingers found the back of the captain's neck and traced a slow path to his shoulders, sliding underneath the fabric of his dress shirt. Meanwhile Jack's hands were behind him, pressed to the edge of the counter to make sure the two of them didn't topple-into the bay of coffee machines.

"Dammit!" Jack murmured when they pulled away for air. Ianto made to capture Jack's lower lips in his, Jack obliged for a fleeting moment, his tongue tracing a path along he base of his lover's upper lip. Then, he pulled away, with a frustrated sigh.

"Sorry, I've got to get this. It's Gwen," he moved a hand to indicate the bluetooth in his ear.

After a final inhalation of Jack's fifty first century pheromones, Ianto backed up, the feeling of the kiss still on his mouth, the anticipation that had been building began to dissipate, and was replaced with disappointment. He fixed his suit and then returned to clean up the shattered mug that had fallen to the ground.

* * *

They brought Ted in through the tourism office. He was awestruck by the Hub, and the ride in the van seemed to be enough to lift his spirits. The change in attitude put Gwen's mind at ease for the time being.

Jack requested a meeting with Gwen and Ianto about the case at hand and a reconnaissance mission regarding what appeared to be a bit of alien tech that got through and was causing mild and sporadic electrical disturbances for nearby residences. Tosh volunteered to accompany Ted to a visit with Owen.

"Hello Owen, this is Ted Nowell, he's here for a physical."

"Yes, yes, I got the memo- mysterious boy related to the Blindness. Mind the skin to skin contact." Owen scowled appearing disinterested as he removed his reading glasses, tucking them carefully in the breast pocket of his lab coat, and put on a pair of surgical gloves followed by a thicker pair of standard rubber gloves.

Tosh knew better. Owen was acutely interested in this mission, the medicine and science involved placed it in a category that was under his expertise so he was the one that held the clout in this case. The doctor was always slightly bitter about what he considered a wasted career.

As Owen examined the boy his thoughts wandered. Vitals were normal, heart rate was slightly elevated, but he was probably just excited. He almost felt like a proper doctor again, seeing a living human and running a mundane physical.

He smiled sardonically to himself. Owen had only been practicing a short time when his life had changed. Just when everything had seemed to be calming down and he thought he would have some normalcy in his life, his fiancé had developed Alzheimer's-youngest case on record-or so they had thought.

All reflexes were normal. That was odd, he had hoped for an indicator with the neurological portion of the exam. A strange neurological condition most likely extraterrestrial in nature was a familiar concept, though unlike the one that threatened Katie's life, this one didn't seem to be degenerative. He thought of the only woman he had ever considered settling down with, and her final days. In the end she couldn't even remember him, but he would never forget her.

"I'm going to take some blood," Owen commented and began the procedure before Ted could respond. Not only did he lose Katie, but several of his friends and colleagues, then Jack offered him a job and here he was. He thought the events over so often they had become something he could think about now and tolerate, these memories were some that visited far more often than he liked.

That was a part of the reason why he took the job, if he was busy his thoughts didn't wander down such dark alleys. He traded in his personal demons in his head, for the monsters that poured in through the rift.

"That's it for now." Owen finished the examination, he couldn't do any further tests until the results of the blood panels were back. He made a note to pick up a few rats next time he went out, so that he could see if the boy's claims were true. "Tosh will show you to your quarters," Owen announced coldly.

* * *

Tosh stood by the wall and watched Owen complete the examination. He spoke infrequently to Ted, only uttering few word commands when he needed compliance. In moments like this Tosh could really see Owen as a proper doctor rather than Torchwood's resident medic and pathologist. He moved skillfully, his face serene as he concentrated entirely on what he was doing and on whatever elusive thoughts seemed to be running through his head. She found herself wondering what musings occupied his mind. It was also moments like these when his characteristic glower relaxed that he looked heavyhearted and distant. A part of Tosh wanted to help but Owen would never accept her comforting; instead he would probably laugh it off with a quip and an insult. He remained inconsolable.

"Tosh will show you to your quarters," Owen finished and he leaned back of the stool to remove the gloves.

"My quarters?" Ted inquired regarding the physician with a dark look. It was clear he didn't like Owen for his shoddy bedside manner.

"Just until the tests come back," Tosh cut in, and smiled at him. She threw Owen a reproachful look, "Come on this way, they're downstairs."

They walked down to the lower levels of the hub and Tosh paused at the door. Ted looked at her expectantly.

"Alright listen, we don't actually have guest rooms," Tosh took a breath and shook her head apologetically, "these are holding cells."

"Holding cells? I'm not going to sit in some jail cell while you do god knows what. You're not the police!" he said, his voice rising he stormed away angrily and then reached the closed door at the the end of the short corridor. He slammed his hands once on the metal dramatically and then reeled around to face Tosh, anger flashing across his features. "I want to leave."

"I'm sorry, It' s just for a night, We would really appreciate your cooperation," Tosh said making her voice as calm and authoritative as she could as her heart sped up in her chest. Her hand ready to move to the holster at her side if Ted grew violent.

"I'll touch you." He took a step forward.

"No you won't," She replied, lifting the base of the shirt up enough to reveal the weapon. A part of the threat struck Tosh as almost comical and the levity extinguished the better part of her fear.

"Sorry, I'm just..." Ted's shoulder's fell, and he composed himself. The repressed hostility that remained made itself clear in the way he stood.

Tosh typed in the entry code and led him to the nearest cell and smiled to herself. The cell was swept out, and the glass wall was cleaned. On the bench was a blanket and pillow. There were also a few books and magazines, and a small assortment of snacks. Gwen and Ianto must've stopped by. She wondered if they'd feel so amiable if the knew he had just threatened her.

* * *

"Gwen," Jack said catching up to her after the meeting and putting a hand on her shoulder to get her attention.

"Yeah? What's up Jack," She said turning around.

"There's another victim of the Blindness. An old lady in London, but I think we should hold off on the interview until Owen gets some of the test results back. In the meantime, I'll need you and Ianto to help with the recon mission, and I'm sure Tosh will want to take a look at the thing once we get it back here."

"Okay, is everything alright with Ianto?"

"Far as I know, why?"

"Well the place is sort of a mess today, thought maybe he was ill or something."

"No, nothing like that, just a busy day, I'm sure tomorrow things will be back to normal," Jack assured her, his eyes scanning the board room table which was covered in trash and coffee cups, and a widespread scattering of papers. He knew the mess had to be driving his partner mad and wondered if he would break and clean up after the team before the day was out. As soon as the meeting was over he had excused himself and left the room in a hurry on the pretense that he needed to take care of Myfanwy.


	9. Chapter 9

Sherlock was sitting at the table in the kitchen hunched over a microscope he had "borrowed" from the hospital, no doubt still working on the neurons he had bought, his lips were pursed in the scowl that John loved so much.

John had a very hard time convincing Sherlock not to go to Cardiff to look for Torchwood, it had been two days since then. In a fit of childish rebellion Sherlock had thrown himself into work and was refusing to talk to John other than the occasional one sentence request for an item across the kitchen or to tell him to move if he was in the way.

John sat down at the table and watched Sherlock for a moment, as he scribbled into a composition notebook. Following the arcs of messy script as they appeared over the paper John noticed the still wet ink was staining his hand as he started each new line.

"Sherlock, you need to eat." John reminded him, "and sleep" He added as an afterthought.

Sherlock continued to ignore him and John sighed. "Torchwood will be here any day now and then you can talk to them, you're acting like a child."

"John, go watch telly. I'm working."

"I am not one of your colleagues or acquaintances you can boss around whenever you please, I'm perfectly welcome to sit in my own kitchen." John said not moving. The vibrating of a phone interrupted them and John's hand went to check his phone as Sherlock answered his own cell. He put it on speaker to have free use of his hands.

* * *

"Hello Sherlock."

"Mycroft." He replied looking into the microscope once more.

"Torchwood is headed into London, undoubtedly to your building." At this Sherlock glanced looked up, first at the phone then at John. He returned the look with a smug I-told-you-so nod.

"Right, anything else I ought to know?" Sherlock's voice was tense, he loathed asking advice especially from his brother. Mycroft was calling to give him information, but why? He was a man who believed in equilibrium in everything he did. He didn't leave the notion of debt and returning the favor to others often. He preferred to believe, as Sherlock did, that most people were highly unreliable. So there must be something in it for him. Mycroft was one of the few that could match wits with Sherlock and so he knew it would be counter intuitive to try to manipulate him into sharing his motives.

"Just the usual"

"Be myself and play nicely?"

"Only the latter. You don't believe in being artificial. You want people to hate you for yourself."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Calling you?"

"Helping me with the case, this case in particular. What do you stand to gain?"

"Helping out my brother isn't enough?"

"That's not the only reason."

"Oh, you have so little faith in my motives,"

"I know better."

"Goodbye Sherlock, I imagine I'll be talking to you quite soon."

The line went dead with a soft click.

Jumping to his feet Sherlock went to check on the wiring of the door bells. The night before last, while John had slept, he had rigged the door bells so that if someone buzzed Mrs. Hudson's flat he would hear.

Walking back to the kitchen he scanned the mess that the kitchen is in. There are a few partially cleared up spots, John no doubt cleaning up to cook. Mrs. Hudson would be- he caught himself she couldn't be angry because she couldn't see the mess. Sherlock swallowed the thought. He and John had helped her get settled in but he hadn't visited since. An ephemeral wave of guilt washed over him, before he managed to suppress it, and it was quickly replaced by anger. When he found who had done this he would make them wish they had never been born.

"Sherlock?" John's face was full of concern, and Sherlock noticed his hands were balled into fists and he relaxed.

"I'm fine John."

"Thinking about Mrs. Hudson?" Daft as he was John tolerated him and occasionally surprised Sherlock with his intuition. He nodded.

They returned to the living room, Sherlock sprawling out in his chair and flipping impatiently through one of John's medical journals.

Suddenly a few hours seemed like an extraordinarily long time.

* * *

_Hello lovely readers! I hate to do this but you too will have to wait a while for Torchwood to show up. I'm taking my MCAT so I won't be updating for several weeks. However after that I'll be on break and will have more free time, so updates should be back to at least biweekly._

_Sorry for the short chapter and thanks for understanding. _


	10. Chapter 10

Gwen and Tosh arrived outside of the London flat on Baker Street, and got out of the car. Stretching after the ride between cities, Gwen sighed and double checked the bag to make sure that she had the recorder and all was in order while Tosh informed the hub of their arrival.

"Don't suspect this will be the last one, eh?" Gwen asked.

"I doubt it," Tosh replied, shouldering her bag and heading into the building. This time it was an elderly woman who was affected; the landlady of that very building.

They hit the button near the door to ring Mrs. Hudson's flat, and then, finding the outer door unlocked, showed themselves into the entrance way where they knocked on the door and stood waiting for her to answer.

"Do you think she's alright?" Gwen asked after a few moments, and as she did so the door opened a few inches, still secured by the chain.

"Hello?" Came a frail voice.

"Hello, Mrs. Hudson. We're the people from the World Health Organization. We called here earlier today."

"Oh, yes. Hold on." She shut the door and they heard her sliding the chain out of its tracks. "Come in and make yourselves comfortable." she told them as she carefully crossed the sitting room in the manner of someone maneuvering through a familiar room at night. "Would you like some tea?" She asked them, standing in the archway to the kitchen.

"Um, no thank you," Tosh said, looking at Gwen. They were both thinking the same thing. It probably wasn't very safe for her to be preparing tea given her condition.

"You're both sure? I'm perfectly capable of making tea," she tutted as though reading their minds. her brows furrowed in frustration.

"Yes, that's quite alright, we stopped on the way here for lunch. We would really like to talk to you. I'm Gwen and my partner is Tosh."

Mrs. Hudson looked toward them disapprovingly and then returned to the sitting room using her hands to guide herself to a sofa where she sat across form them.

Gwen removed the recorder and turned it on. "So could you tell us about the day this all started?"

"It was a pretty normal day, as I've already told the doctors at the hospital, I was-"

There was an interruption as someone rapped their knuckles on the door.

"Oh, that might be one of my lodgers." She smiled getting to her feet once more.

* * *

Jack sat in his office leaning forward over a printout of UNIT's most recent activities that Tosh had extracted after hacking her way into their system the night before. He scanned it, growing momentarily distracted by the tightness of his shirt collar. He ran his fingers around its edge to loosen it. Then, turning to the section of the most recent UNIT activities, he read several paragraphs on weapons development and started in on active investigations.

For the most part, the two organizations had reached an agreement though it was tenuous at best. Largely, this agreement was constructed by Martha Jones who, after stints with both organizations, managed to establish the relative peace they now enjoyed.

Only one thing in the paper struck him as odd.

_Investigations opened regarding a series of eight deaths by electrocution. Cause unknown, suspected extraterrestrial involvement or pathogen. Eighth victim discovered last night. Metropolitan police headquarters have been told to cease investigations immediately and the corpses have been scheduled for transfer. _

He set the stack of papers on his desk and ran a hand over his eyes. The similarities between the two cases were obvious. As a matter of fact he was shocked that UNIT wasn't already pounding on their door looking to correspond.

"Owen?" He tried the bluetooth, but knew the young doctor was fond of taking it off when he worked, preferring to blast his music over speakers in the lab or morgue as opposed to listening to it through the radio system in the headset.

Jack sighed getting to his feet and wondering if the argument with Owen over music again might not be worth the aggravation times like now. The doctor was fond of obscure and loud music that was mostly instrumental and decidedly cacophonous and could be caught looking down his nose whenever another team member played their own music or controlled the radio when they rode in a van.

Another thing struck Jack as curious. When they visited a house for an interview it was typical for them to check on the backgrounds of the other residents. Procedural especially when a case like the Blindness meant that other people, including neighbors, could be the source of the problem. One of the men who lived in that building was periodically involved in work with the Scotland Yard, more formally known as the Metropolitan police headquarters.

"Owen!" Jack yelled walking out of his office and looking around. He could hear the muffled beat of harsh rock music coming from autopsy. He stormed into the bay to find Owen drawing a sample of some clear fluid from a weevil's neck.

"Owen!" Jack yelled, now a pace behind the pathologist.

"Jesus Christ! Jack! What!?" He had jumped several inches jerking the syringe out of the weevil and spilling some of the clear yellow fluid. To mask his embarrassment, he walked across the room to turn the sound off. The silence seemed deafening following the blaring music.

"Music loud enough?" Jack asked and Owen bit his tongue and said nothing. Jack was impressed, not even a bitter remark. That was unusual.

"Here, read this. I'm thinking it might pertain to the blindness."

"I still think it's a neuropathy of some sort." He took the papers and read them over, then looked up at Jack. "You think this has to do with the Blindness? There are similarities. Has UNIT contacted you?"

"No not yet, but I'm sure they will. What's more is that woman I sent Tosh and Gwen to interview is the landlady to a Sherlock Holmes. Apparently works unofficially with the London precinct on occasion."

"Sherlock Holmes?" Owen said, and then composed himself. "Yeah I've read the blog. He works on all sorts of cases that the police need outside help on, really clever fellow."

Jack looked at him. Owen didn't give complements very often.

"Well since they're there I'm thinking we ought to have Gwen and Owen interview him too; see if Sherlock has been involved in these electrocution cases."

"Good luck with that." Owen responded, dubiously.

"What?"

"Nothing, I just... I don't think that'll go over very well."


	11. Chapter 11

"Sherlock, why can we hear Mrs. Hudson's doorbell?"

Sherlock turned from the window where he had watched two women exit the black van outside and approach 221 Baker Street. Ignoring John, he threw his coat on and half jogged into the bedroom where he pulled a bag out from under the bed and shoved a voice recorder into his pocket.

"Sherlock!?"

"John," he replied calmly, lifting a finger to his lips to shush him. Sherlock waited with a hand on the doorknob listening for the agents to enter Mrs. Hudson's flat.

After a few moments he walked down the stairs and knocked on the door, counting how long it should take Mrs. Hudson to answer from the sitting room, he rolled slightly on his heels, feeling impatient. He could sense John standing behind him. A cell phone rang in the flat and was answered a moment later.

"Hello, Sherlock, John." She smiled, and John opened his mouth to speak. "I would know Sherlock's knocking anywhere. How are you boys?"

"We're good. You have company?" Sherlock asked, looking over her shoulder where he had an occluded view of whoever was sitting in the arm chair. Its twin seemed to be empty - no doubt occupied a few moments earlier by the women who answered her phone.

"Oh, just some people here to talk about my vision. They called earlier to let me know they were coming. You don't have to worry about them."

"May we come in Mrs. Hudson?" He took her gently by the shoulders and moved her out of the way, stepping through the doorway in one fluid motion before she could answer. John followed closely, glancing apologetically at the landlady.

"Well I suppose, if it's urgent. What's the matter?" Sherlock didn't answer her instead he made his way into the living room. The woman sitting - short, oriental and well composed - got to her feet when he entered. The other woman was pacing in the kitchen he could hear her talking on the phone in a low voice.

"Sherlock Holmes," he said. She lifted an arm to shake his hand and he accepted.

"Toshiko Sato. Investigator for the Word Health 're just running-"

"I know you're not government agents," he replied sternly. He looked her over: glasses, she blinked less than other people, probably computers. Her voice was soft and confident but her posture gave her away. She was shy, confident in her job, but not her interactions. She looked tired, worked a lot. No wedding ring...his thoughts were interrupted by the agent in the other room. She had said his name.

* * *

"Tosh, would you come here for a moment?" Gwen asked from the kitchen. She had just got off the phone with Jack, who filled her in on the UNIT investigation into the electrocution cases and told her to interview a Sherlock Holmes who happened to live in that very building. Far too many coincidences. She looked at the men in the sitting room.

"Who was it? The Hub?"

"Yeah, it was Jack. He read the UNIT files you left for him. Apparently there's another case that might be related. He want's us to interview a man, Sherlock Holmes. Who lives here. He's been investigating as an outside source with the London police, and Jack thinks he might be able to provide some useful information. What is it?"

"That's Sherlock Holmes." She moved her head slightly to indicate the man in the other room who she had been speaking with. "He knows were not a part of the World Health Organization."

"That's bloody brilliant," Gwen said, a bit exasperated. At the Hub they commonly blamed Owen for ordering pizzas under the company name and blowing their cover, mostly because it pissed him off. But when people didn't buy their cover of being government officials, it made their job much harder. Thank god for Retcon, but even that wasn't fool proof.

"Well, we should interview them separately. Do you want Mr. Holmes and his flatmate or the victim?"

"I'll take Mr. Holmes," Gwen said. Tosh was happy to hear it; she didn't like him even after their brief exchange not to mention the things she occasionally heard about him on the web.

* * *

The women returned from the kitchen, Sherlock studied the other one. She had a wedding band, and he wondered if the husband knew about Torchwood-he figured he did. She looked at him without breaking her gaze; it was a lot bolder than her partner's. He could tell she was relatively new to the work, but that she had an affinity for it and fit in well. "Hello. I'm Gwen Cooper. I guess you know we're Torchwood then, Mr. Holmes?"

"And you know who I am too, I take it?" No doubt that was what the phone call was about, but why would they want to talk to him? Help with the case maybe, but he had done all he could and discovered next to nothing about the blindness...So another case. The electrocutions. That made sense; both were afflictions of the nervous system. How did he not see it sooner? It would be easy information to weasel out of an idiot like Anderson, so why not just talk to the police force? Well that was obvious, because he was above the police force just like Torchwood was outside of the government.

Gwen looked at him. "Yes, we know who you are; we would like to interview you on a case you've been working on recently."

"Yes the electrocutions, you think they're related to the cases of blindness."

"Yes, so if you would cooperate and tell us about your investigations we would appreciate it."

"Have you discovered anything else about the origins of the blindness," he responded, ignoring the question, and then he lowered his voice. Mrs. Hudson was now in the kitchen preparing tea and a tray of pastries. "Or of its treatment?"

"Our resident medic and pathologist is working on it."

"John Watson here is a doctor; we would very much like to meet with your medic and the rest of your team."

Sherlock watched as the agents exchanged glances. They were clearly doubtful, but he knew they would let him go, they needed information and would have to agree.

"Would you excuse us for a moment?" Tosh told asked and headed out of the room with Gwen.

* * *

"Gwen, I think we should take them to the Hub."

"We can't take strangers to the Hub like that."

"We should make an exception, he'd be useful in solving the case, I've seen John Watson's blog- the man solves problems for a living, and he knows Mrs. Hudson..."

"I know that, it's another factor. We've talked about it as a team and we all agree that bringing people in who have personal claims at stake only complicates things, I mean look at what happened with Ianto and Lisa... I don't know." Gwen was shaking her head, looking a little concerned. Tosh took a deep breath and began to explain.

"Sherlock Holmes might well be one of the most brilliant rational minds of our time; we should make an exception for them. I would be very surprised if he didn't make the leaps necessary for us to solve this, additionally it's only getting more complex and we've certainly partnered with outsiders before and he's more than capable at looking at the problem without involving his emotions-he sees them as weakness and is skilled at putting them aside"

"Well if you insist we can try it. He seems like he's the type who'll love Myfanwy." Gwen replied sarcastically and Tosh smiled. Tosh spoke with the conviction that she acquired when she really believed in something, and Gwen knew it would be no use arguing.

She made a mental note to take a look at this blog when she got a few moments of free time and they headed into the sitting room to have tea with Mrs. Hudson and her boarders.


	12. Chapter 12

Ianto Jones was sitting comfortably in the tourism office flipping through one of the magazines there for what must be the dozenth time. He was there to receive a delivery of supplies the Hub needed and was internally lamenting the job for the rather dull task that it was, though enjoying the time reliving the previous night with Jack.

The boredom was almost enough to inspire creativity and his mind wandered to a few new games they could play. Jack's ego was impressive and he consistently reminded Ianto that almost nothing could surprise him, and so a competition had arisen between them making almost every night they spent together one to remember.

Ianto?" He jumped as his thoughts were interrupted by Tosh's voice in his ear, momentarily forgetting the source was the bluetooth. He rarely got calls from the others when he wasn't on a mission, usually it was Jack speaking in his ear to convey orders or to try to get him bothered.

"Tosh. Hello, what's up?" He asked composing himself.

"Are you in the side entrance?"

"I am. We're expecting a delivery from Helson Labs. Some new glassware for Owen. Why?" His suspicions were raised, and Tosh wasn't an excellent liar. He picked up on the stain in her voice.

"We're bringing a few guests."

"Guests that Jack doesn't know about?"

"He sort of knows." It was Gwen speaking now with a tone of authority in her voice. "Could you let us in and we'll explain when we see you?"

"I don't think that's the best idea."

"Ianto listen, please. We're pretty sure Jack will agree with these people. They're not victims but we have reason to believe they could help us with the cases were working on." Tosh said.

"Are they UNIT? You know if they are I'll have to say no." Ianto had gotten to his feet and was pacing the small office. He didn't want to upset Jack and he and Tosh were friends. He trusted them both and believed they had only good intentions, but if he was responsible for a breech in security he would be on thin ice with Jack, and he was just starting to enjoy the occasional field work.

"No they're not a part of any agency. Occasionally they work with the London police force, but really they're more of-"

"They're freelancers." Tosh cut in.

Ianto had been on thin ice with Jack before. Jack had almost shot him and hadn't. Ianto sighed and sat back down behind the desk. "Alright I'll let you in, but as soon as you're here we need to go straight to Jack's office and talk to him about it."

"Alright, thank you."

Thanks Ianto. We'll be there in ten minutes or so." Tosh replied, and then the familiar singular beep that signified the end of a transmission sounded in his ear.

Ianto leaned back in his chair rubbing a hand over his eyes and the bridge of his nose. His posture remarkably reminiscent of that of a certain captain.

* * *

John Watson watched Sherlock's expression as they rode in the Torchwood van with Gwen and Tosh, and Gwen told them about the case. He was watching Tosh as she worked on a dashboard computer and examining a panel of buttons on the back doors with interest. It was the same expression that John saw come over his face when he has collected promising data for an experiment, had a favorable percent yield in an isolation, or reached a concluding inference about a case.

To John the mess of buttons along the passenger doors looked more complex than any device he had seen, and he leaned against Sherlock in part to avoid accidentally pressing them. As for the words and numbers and various windows racing across the computer monitor, John had not the faintest idea what they meant. But Sherlock was watching them with rapt attention and poorly masked fascination, more than once John wondered if he was listening to a word that Gwen said.

Finally they pulled into a parking lot in Roald Dhal Pass and got out of the car.

"Please don't touch that." Gwen said as she turned around to inform them they had arrived and found Sherlock closely examining a series of flat black switches.

"We're here." Tosh chimed in opening her door.

"You wrote the software for this truck?"

"I did." Tosh said with a small smile as a light blush rose to her cheeks.

"It's exceedingly simple." Sherlock responded and the smile slid from Tosh' s features.

"He thinks everything is simple." John replied with a soft push against Sherlock's side. It was clear Sherlock had hurt her feelings. He was terrible at social cues, even more so when he was distracted, and he continued to examine the panel.

"There are two ways of constructing a software design; one way is to make it so simple that there are obviously no deficiencies, and the other way is to make it so complicated that there are no obvious deficiencies. The first method is far more difficult." Tosh countered meeting Sherlock's gaze as he looked up to from what he was doing and said nothing more climbing out of the car.

"I do believe you've just made Sherlock Holmes speechless. Believe me it's not an easy thing to do." John told Tosh and then exited the van.

They walked together along the docks before arriving at the tourism office.

"Here we are." Gwen said holding the door open for them.

"I'm not speechless." Sherlock whispered to John with all of the obstinate insistence of any wronged child.

* * *

The man behind the desk got to his feet. He was exceptionally well groomed and his motions were that of a man who was well practiced in self control. His hands appeared soft, and this was confirmed when he shook hands with the guests.

"Hello, I'm Ianto Jones. Welcome to Torchwood." He said in greeting. He smelled of fine coffee and so it was clear he was the offices secretary and coffee boy. That's probably why he didn't include his position in his introduction. He had bags under his eyes as well, though Sherlock guessed it wasn't from exciting missions nor was it from long hours preparing coffee and cleaning.

He was shy as well, that was apparent by the way that his eyes flitted between the four of them. This also betrayed the fact that he was nervous about something. Sherlock watched as his left thumb found the base of his ring finger as though to twirl a ring that wasn't there. So he had been married. He probably lost his husband due to the job.

"Right if you'll just follow me, Jack wants a team meeting with our guests in the conference room."

"You already told him?"

"Just thirty seconds ago. I saw you park."

The door to the office opened in the wall to reveal the large tunnel, and Ianto turned around to lead the way while the rest followed.

* * *

_ Hello everyone, I have the next three chapters written. I haven't published in a while because my beta is MIA. Now that I 'm so far ahead I might publish weekly! However I'm agonizing over details because they establish relationships between our characters that are important to the plot. As always thank you for reading, and please feel free to leave a review. They make my day and really help motivate me to write!_


	13. Chapter 13

Jack leaned back in his chair rubbing his hand over his eyes for a moment before getting to his feet and donning his jacket. He had just gotten off of the phone with Ianto. Unexpected guests: exactly the sort he didn't like. He was not happy with the three of them. He suspected he knew exactly who the guests were. After debating it for several moments he called Owen, the whole team should be there to meet, it seemed they were all in on this mission now. Then he called Ianto to tell him that the guests should be taken to the conference room instead of to his office.

He had heard of Sherlock Holmes of course, and knew that John Watson - a blogger and a fellow veteran - would be accompanying him. It was Sherlock's skepticism that he suspected would be the biggest problem that and the fact that he was arrogant and brilliant and would no doubt want to run the show.

Jack arrived in the room before the others, he brought the digital case files to go over, though he suspected Gwen and Tosh would have already provided them with the information that they could. It was likely Mr. Holmes would want to hear the recordings of the interviews first hand.

While he waited for everyone to arrive, he thought about Ted. After his original outburst at Tosh, he had been amazingly well behaved and compliant. Almost suspiciously so.

The door to the conference room opened and Jack sat up; it was only Owen. He put his elbows on the table.

"Special guests?" The doctor questioned.

"Tosh's idea, she thinks they can provide insight. We'll just have to see what they say."

"Sherlock Holmes and John Watson?" Owen asked, sitting down across from Jack.

"That's them."

* * *

After a short walk they arrived in what Ianto introduced as the Hub. It was a lot of concrete and running water and old furniture mixed with technology that Sherlock had never before seen and longed to examine. He took in the space. The condition of the furniture and scattering of personal artifacts made it clear the space was well worn, it almost felt lived in. Despite this the concrete and metal grating floors were nearly spotless, Ianto did a nice job at keeping it clean.

They passed a wall of screens and Sherlock was awestruck, he kept current on a great deal of technologic advances using all of the best sources, and he was sure his knowledge of such things was superior to most peoples, but what he saw here was incredible. He had stopped walking to stare and was only brought to his senses when John pulled him along to keep up with the rest of the group. Unfortunately, he only got fleeting glances as they walked by and soon he was led into a meeting room.

The man sitting at the table was enough to distract his thoughts.

"Hello, Captain Jack Harkness," he said smiling at John as he shook his hand, "A fellow veteran, I hear?" Sherlock felt a wave of affection for John and then a strange stirring of dislike for Jack who was taking an interest.

The man was different from any Sherlock had seen and he couldn't put his finger on why. It was maddening and he immediately set himself about the task of figuring Jack out. He had an American accent and spoke with a smooth confidence. However, the most immediate indicator was how he dressed. It was though he was born out of the wrong century. American military Jacket, and not a replica, from what Sherlock could tell. The fabric looked worn and the buttons appeared to be real bronze, and not the well maintained bronze that they would be if the coat was treated as a costume piece. He also wore a dress shirt and braces, which were generally out of style now. There was something on his left wrist that was obscured by his jacket, Sherlock spent a few moments trying and failing to get a better look.

It wasn't just what he wore that set him apart. He also moved differently, and it was clear he was long accustomed to being a leader. This was reinforced by his continued use of the title captain. He was fluid and somehow aware of how he held himself. Sherlock sensed he had heightened senses of proprioception and equilibrioception.

"I am, John Watson. uh- leg put me out of it." John replied smiling. rested a hand on his thigh. " I fought in Afghanistan."

Sherlock saw Jack throw a warm glance to Ianto, and realized they must be together. Coffee boy and Captain, an interesting combination. Ianto nodded a bit, a smile lighting in his eyes. So Jack was a flirt as John had once called a nurse who sent him flowers when Sherlock became concerned. John had explained that some people just didn't know how to show their affection any other way and added the word to Sherlock's vocabulary.

"Excellent, and a doctor too. Very good. Owen and you should get along well."

"Dr. Harper." Owen corrected, shooting both Jack and John dark looks and then smiling at Sherlock "medic and pathologist to Torchwood."

Owen didn't look like the doctors Sherlock typically met. He had the air of overconfidence and arrogance that was commonly found in surgeons, and Sherlock wondered if he shared a god complex in common with them as well. But the doctor was much younger than John, and like everyone at Torchwood, he looked tired. He was wearing a wrinkled t-shirt and jeans. It was also clear he disliked many of his colleagues, but for some reason he liked Sherlock, at least that seemed to be the only reason for the smug smile he offered. He must read the blog, Sherlock thought with an internal sigh. Typical unwanted admiration, he was probably an idiot.

"And you must be Sherlock Holmes," Jack said turning to him with much less interest than what he showed John, though his smile remained.

"I am." Sherlock again tried to see what was on the other man's wrist when they shook hands.

He could tell Jack, despite his outward appearance, genuinely cared about his team. He was subtly angry at them yet he still made sure everyone was content. Something about his mannerisms made it clear he would protect them no matter what. He cared too easily and too much and that made him weak.

This made Jack a terrible leader in Sherlock's mind. How could he operate efficiently with his mind on the safety of his agents? It was a distraction that would harm sooner than help the organization.

"It's interesting that you care so much about your team. In my experience it is exactly that weakness of character that makes someone like you ill fit for a leadership position that matters." Sherlock added, speaking loud enough for anyone who was listening to hear.

"That's not how I see it,"Jack turned away from Sherlock taking his snide comment in stride." Well now that we're all acquainted, if everyone will sit down we can get this meeting started."

There was a general commotion as everyone shuffled around to claim seats and a few more chairs were pulled up around the table. In the midst of it, Sherlock saw Ianto murmur something to Jack, and caught the word 'Coffees". To which Jack replied with a smile and shook his head, and Ianto took a seat at the table.

So Ianto was getting more fieldwork. Sherlock wondered if sleeping with his boss had anything to do with it, and looked forward to sharing some of his deductions with John later when they had time alone.

Sherlock glanced towards John who was talking with Tosh about something. John caught Sherlock looking and patted a chair next to him, which had his jacket thrown over the back to save the seat for Sherlock. Another rush of emotion concentrated in his chest, affection for John, as he took a seat next to his partner.

"Alright, everyone comfortable?" Jack asked from the head of the table. He then reached for a remote and the screens around the room illuminated.

"Right, so I thought we would go over the case so far, and then Sherlock and John could fill us in on what they've learned about the electrocutions."


	14. Chapter 14

The meeting lasted a few hours. So far they had: cases of blindness, electrocution and tastelessness; Ted was some sort of carrier; Owen had some lab results that he didn't go in depth about because most of the team didn't have the science background for it. The interviews Tosh and Gwen had been doing were discussed as well. There were a few jokes about interviewing the electrocution victims with a 'risen mitten' and lastly, arrangements were made to procure a few of the cadavers and any supplies Sherlock would need.

After the meeting Tosh, Gwen, and Owen were sent home, and Jack gave John and Sherlock instructions to a nearby hotel where they could stay for free under the name of Torchwood.

At this Sherlock scoffed.

"What is it?" Jack asked and John shot Sherlock a warning glance.

"You're hardly secret are you?"

"That's the thing though, we don't need to be too secret. Everyone's so blinded by ignorance, nobody sees what's right in front of them," Jack responded.

Sherlock paused for a moment and John could tell he agreed with the statement.

"Aliens? I'll believe you are an offhanded agency, but you don't really expect me to believe that you work with extraterrestrials. It's clear you're some sort of ragtag defense agency."

"We _are_ a defense agency. Torchwood exists to protect and defend the country and the planet from alien threat, using any means at our disposal," Jack said with an air of mitigation. John thought he was impatient to leave.

"You must think me an idiot," Sherlock sneered.

"No, give it time. Tomorrow I'll have Owen show you a weevil, and maybe Ianto can introduce you to Myfanwy. By the end of the week you'll be a believer."

* * *

The hotel room was rather nice. It was three rooms- a bedroom with a desk closet and two twin beds, a bathroom, and a kitchenette. John and Sherlock checked in with no problem, the clerk at the front desk had been friendly. When he walked into the room John was tired and hungry and he figured they should order room service; they hadn't eaten for hours.

Sherlock hung his jacket in the closet and sat down on the bed nearest the window, looking around the room.

"I'm going to order dinner. Do you want anything in particular?" John knew better than to ask if Sherlock was hungry; he was now on a case and would deny food, ignoring the notion of eating or hunger completely unless John asked and encouraged him to eat regular meals.

"On a case!" Sherlock replied. He had flopped onto his back and was lying prone and staring at the ceiling. John guessed he was deep in thought, reliving the details of the meeting and trying to make connections that he and the others had previously missed.

"You still need to eat," John told him. He sat down on the opposite bed and flipped through the hotel service guide that had been sitting on the night stand next to the phone. He found the menu and began to decide what to order for them. He thought maybe they could have chicken pot pies with a side of vegetables.

"Steak and wine."

John looked up at his friend, and asked "Steak and wine?" as he raised an eyebrow. Sherlock almost never had input when it came to food - especially when he was on a case.

"Torchwood's footing the bill, so why not?" He asked.

"Alright," John smiled and picked up the phone to order their meal. When he set it down he looked at Sherlock who had sat up and was repressing a smile. A moment later they broke into laughter. "They're not very secret at all, are they."

"No." He responded trying to suppress another wave of laughter "Not very much."

"Well, dinner should be here in a half an hour," John said. "What?"

"Ianto and Jack are a couple." Sherlock said. "Also, Gwen is married, Ianto was married, and Owen is an idiot."

"Sherlock." John replied trying and failing to sound reproachful. They spent the next twenty minutes discussing the Torchwood team. Sherlock guided John through his deductions and then they tried to piece together more stories and background about the agents. It was more speculations and games than actual knowledge but they were both rather enjoying the conversation. They were finally interrupted by a knock at the door and the arrival of dinner.

The food was delicious and even Sherlock made decent progress at eating it. The wine was strong and they worked their way through the better half of the bottle. Sitting on Sherlock's bed they set the plates aside and lay next to one another.

"Aliens, John! There can't be aliens," Sherlock said covering his face with his hand.

"They seem pretty convinced," he replied with a smile, feeling relatively carefree. John didn't believe in the supernatural and extraterrestrial either, but then he wasn't nearly as skeptical as Sherlock. If aliens did exist they would find out tomorrow.

"It doesn't make sense. Don't you think that if aliens existed it would be more obvious?"

"I don't know." John yawned; he was growing tired from the long day and the wine. John looked at his lover whose brows were now furrowed in contemplation as he stared at the ceiling and felt a wave of affection.

"And this case, there has to be some sort of underlying biological cause, maybe it's a rare disease or pathogen but it must be- John?" Sherlock had noticed his staring.

"Oh, we'll find out soon enough. We have to be up early tomorrow. " He replied, his eyes landing upon Sherlock's lips for an instant.

A moment later their mouths met and Sherlock's warm lips tasted of the wine that was causing John's thoughts to circle pleasantly in his mind. John felt a light tugging at his lower lip and he opened his mouth allowing the kiss to deepen, his head swimming from lack of breath.

"Not tired." Sherlock sighed when they pulled away, resting his forehead on John's.

"No," Was all John could muster before he fell once more into another wine hazy kiss.


	15. Chapter 15

Owen woke up on the couch to the sound of his alarm clock beeping from the other room. He got up and picked up the beer cans and an empty bowl that rested on the coffee table before dumping the whole lot of it in the sink.

This morning he would take John and Sherlock to his lab and show them the progress on the tests he was running for the case. He also hoped Sherlock would be able to provide insight into the immunological strength of the Weevil. He had recently isolated several proteins and although it didn't pertain to the case at hand, he hoped that perhaps he would be willing to take a look, maybe even discuss where to take the research next.

He sighed while checking the messages on his phone that he had ignored the previous night; a bill collector and a girl he had picked up at the club a few months back calling to check up on him. He hadn't been to a club in nearly two weeks and thought maybe he was done with that. It would be nice to have someone a little more stable, though she would have to be fun, too. After losing Katie he had focused on having a good time rather than anything serious. That worked best really with a job like Torchwood and kept everyone happy, but though he would never admit it, it got lonely.

After he got ready in the bathroom, he picked out a nice pair of jeans and a new t-shirt. The casual wear was one of the many perks of the job.

The morning meeting was brief, given the team meeting the night before. Owen would show the temporary agents the lab and talk with them about his progress and thoughts on the case and after, Tosh and Gwen would go through the interview tapes with them. Ianto and Gwen were going to collect some corpses and some odd things Sherlock had requested, leaving Tosh to accompany them to the lab.

Jack was visiting UNIT and the London Police to speak with them about the case and settle jurisdiction. It wasn't large scale and though London wasn't Wales he would argue that the cases were clearly linked.

* * *

"It's strange that there haven't been any more cases for a few days." Tosh said as the four of them headed to the morgue, trying to make conversation.

"Well if as we suspect this is a carrier pathogen then it makes sense," Owen replied.

"Right so let's say the people who are responsible for this know what they're doing. Why don't they turn themselves in?" Tosh asked.

"Because they're afraid of what will happen to them." John joined the conversation. "You said that the boy you have he was what? College age. Maybe the rest of them are young, too."

"Plus you've seen all those scifi films. We all know what happens to people with superpowers."

"Torchwood happens," Tosh replied. She hadn't meant it to come out the way it did, and since Jack had been leader they did their best not to cause any unnecessary harm to anyone- alien or otherwise. Even so, the organization had a very dark history and Tosh had been disgusted when she looked into it for the first time. She stayed because she thought that they were doing good work now, making things better and protecting people, and because of the team. They were good people.

The group was silent for a minute and then they reached the lab.

"Right, here we are, I have some files from the archives." He picked up a tablet off a nearby lab bench and handed it to Sherlock. "That has another incident of what I think must be a similar disease. RFOCD-124 was an alien pathogen that was transmitted to victims, but not between them, and it was only transmitted by carriers. This particular xenovirus was also a disease that affected the nervous system."

"Do we know if there's an incubation period between the contact and the display of symptoms?" John asked.

"We Don-"

"John, there must be, Mrs. Hudson was alone in her flat when she lost her sight."

"That's right," John smiled at Sherlock and then turned his attention back to Owen. "What about the patents, have you thought about a cure?"

"The victims. No they aren't our priority, finding the origin of the disease is."

Tosh thought she saw John tense up at this, it was clear he didn't agree with calling those effected 'victims'. John was a doctor as well, and one who must care about his patients. Not that Owen didn't care, Tosh thought he must, but he was more interested in the science behind it, curious in the cause before the cure.

"Right, so what have you got?" Sherlock interrupted, staring at Owen and looking bored with the current conversation.

"Well that's it as far as theory, we haven't got anything else. We have Ted so we might have to see if we can discover anything unusual about him that will point us in the right direction. Once the cadavers arrive we'll be able to examine them, too." Owen seemed nervous. He was fidgeting when he admitted he had made no progress which was unusual; he certainly didn't have trouble telling Jack and the team that he was slow on research or hadn't any results.

"_We _won't be doing anything. I will be examining the bodies and working in the lab with John. I do not need anyone as incompetent as you at my side. If I want your insight I will ask. Because I am working with Torchwood I will reveal to you any discoveries that I make during the daily team meetings."

Owen looked rather hurt for a moment by these words before he composed himself and Tosh spoke.

"Look, we need to be civil to one another. You can have your own lab space and work independently, but we are all on this case so collaboration would be best for us all."

After defending Owen, Tosh was suddenly aware that they were all looking at her and she felt the color rise in her cheeks. Sherlock had been downright mean to Owen, maybe because he had picked up on the fact that John didn't like him. The doctor was one for acting careless and indifferent but Tosh thought he couldn't be. Under his facade she believed him to be a decent person and it was clear Sherlock had hurt his feelings.

"Jack mentioned something about a Weeble last night?" John asked.

"A Weevil: savage alien humanoid. Cardiff's sewers are overrun with them and they cause problems on occasion. A bunch of them came through the rift and they've reproduced so they're a pretty constant threat," Owen replied with only a hint of his anger in his voice.

"The rift?" Sherlock asked.

"Yeah, tear in the fabric of space and time smack in the middle of Cardiff. It's why Torchwood three is located here," Owen explained.

Sherlock glanced at John who shrugged his shoulders in return.

"Anyway there's a Weevil in the morgue. I've been studying their immune system, it's surprisingly similar to that of humans but stronger, they can fight off infections that would kill a human outright, I think it's some sort of antibody they produce." Owen talked as he slid the corpse out of its refrigerated door and unzipped the bag.

Tosh watched as Sherlock made a face at the Weevil, and took out a pen, lifting its upper lip to examine its razor teeth. "It has an immune system similar to human's because it's a human." Sherlock commented. "This isn't makeup but maybe a birth defect or the work of a skilled cosmetic surgeon?"

"It's an alien alright."

"Sherlock," John admonished as Sherlock had unzipped the bag and was pulling back the layers of skin and muscle to open the Y-incision that Owen had previously cut in the chest of the Weevil.

"It's alright, He can look." Owen said a smug grin settling over is features. It was clear to Tosh that he was all too happy to see that he knew about something Sherlock Holmes didn't and to prove him wrong in his disbelief. A part of Tosh was interested in seeing the guest's reaction to the evidence that the Weevil wasn't, in fact, an elaborate prank, but rather a true extraterrestrial.

* * *

After the meeting, John and Sherlock meant to meet with Gwen and Tosh told them she would catch up.

Throughout his examination he had called out anatomical differences, denounced the lack of surgical scars and other indicators, repeated the word impossible, questioned Owen on certain aspects of the physiology, and called the agents of Torchwood "out of sorts",among other things, under his breath. Finally, Sherlock had grown frustrated with the Weevil declaring over and over that it was impossible before finally admitting that maybe it wasn't.

Owen told him about the live Weevils they had in holding. Tosh worried a bit about how Sherlock would handle the news and evidence of extraterrestrials, and he seemed incredulous even after he admitted the Weevil might not be an "elaborate anatomical hoax". It had taken over twenty minutes of John's prompting make Sherlock leave the autopsy bay.

Tosh watched Owen cleaning up the tools he had allowed Sherlock to use to examine the body.

"Owen?"

"Mmmhmm?" He said tuning off the water and drying his hands on his thighs.

"Sherlock is... Well he's rude. I'm sure he didn't mean it. I don't think you're incompetent." She had meant to say 'we' as in the team.

"I know, I read the blog. Thanks Tosh, but I'm fine really." He said a tone of annoyance in his voice and he refused to look up at her. "I didn't expect anything else." Owen said this last part a little more quietly and Tosh knew he was disappointed.

"Alright. Well... If you ever want to talk about the case I'm here... and you know I'll let you know if I hear anything."

"Great." He said putting the weevil away and then walking away to begin removing samples from the PCR machine.

"Right, so I'll talk to you later."

Owen lifted a hand in a half salute with a forced smile and lifted a tube to read its label. Tosh was feeling a little hurt as she left- she didn't know why she bothered honestly- he didn't show interest. She guessed it was just because she cared about the team and didn't want see any of them hurt, but part of her knew it was more than that. She shook it off and walked quickly to meet up with Gwen.


	16. Chapter 16

"Mycroft Holmes? You've got to be kidding me. Your brother's a real charmer," Jack said shaking the man's hand with a facetious grin.

The meeting with UNIT had gone well and he had met with chief of police, both parties had agreed with minimal persuasion that Torchwood had the right to investigate the case. He had been about to leave when he got the phone call from a certain Mycroft Holmes.

"Hello, Jack. Good to finally meet you. Have a seat."

"Is this about your brother?" Jack asked ignoring the man's offer he walked around the perimeter of the room examining the bookshelves.

"It's also about the case," Mycroft said giving him a curt nod, confirming that some of it was indeed about his brother.

"How so?" asked Jack, now turning to face Mycroft.

"Well, I first noticed the relation between my brother's work on the electrocution case and the blindness. I saw that UNIT had tagged it in their file and knew that you would be contacting Sherlock."

"Okay. So do you have a lead or are you just looking for an update?"

"I'm a busy man Jack." He didn't like the way the man used his first name. "I have resources. I could get an update without calling you in."

To Jack that sounded like a threat; Torchwood kept their files very secure and Tosh was one of the best programmers he had encountered. He guessed Mycroft was lying. "Alright. I'm listening."

"I have a large network under my control, my brother is under the impression that I could pull strings that could manipulate most, if not all, of the government if I so desired."

The ego must run in the family; Mycroft had taken a seat and was talking to Jack from the chair. After making his round of the office, Jack sat down as well, and he saw the smile spread over Mycroft's face.

"Great, you have control. I still don't understand how this relates to the mission."

"A few of my men have suffered a strange symptom, I'm wondering if it might be related."

"Go on," Jack said, looking at Mycroft now, who was watching Jack carefully. They knew multiple symptoms existed from the same cause; a new one was not out of the question.

"Well many of the people I work with also help out in other organizations, they are exceptionally trained and it is very easy for them to pick up side jobs when they are free."

Jack leaned back in the chair and thought that he had an idea where this was going. His men were involved in UNIT or another branch of Torchwood and wanted information. He waited for Mycroft to continue, preparing how he would decline to help.

"About a half dozen of them worked with the police on a high stakes drug bust, three of them died. You need to understand that these men are not the sort to get themselves killed over a mission like that. I'm sure you too trust your agents to handle themselves well in dangerous situations?"

"Yes. I'm very sorry to hear about your men, it's a shame." Jack was growing impatient and he now felt Mycroft was beating around the point, perhaps to manipulate him.

"It's the survivors that are the problem."

This peaked his interest; he thought Mycroft was giving him a sad story as part of a ploy to get information. "The survivors, have they lost one of their senses?"

"In a way." Mycroft said and Jack exhaled; he was sick of riddles. "They lost their sense of fear."

"That can't be a-" Jack started talking fast. He didn't understand how that was related and how the recklessness of a few of Mycroft's men had anything to do with their case.

"You can't say that you don't agree that mental aspects of things like personality, or fear, or ones perception of reality are not just as neurological, just as easily manipulated and affected by alien lifeforms or technology, as the physical senses are." He glanced knowingly at Jack when he mentioned alien technology.

"Perhaps but it really doesn't fit what we know about this so far."

"Would you at least consider it?" He asked, it seemed he was very suddenly appearing amiable. "I have the men in holding if you want to examine them."

"Fine. We'll take them over to Torchwood within the next few days."

"Just so that you are aware, they are not happy with the fact that we are holding them, and because they have no instinctual fear, you should be careful." Jack thought he could see a mischievous glint in Mycroft's eye and he wondered again if he wasn't being conned.

"I'm sure we're capable." Jack retorted with an edge of irritation in his voice.

They shook hands and exchanged goodbyes, Mycroft leaving Jack with information regarding how he could pick up the men.

"One more thing." Mycroft said as Jack was about to let himself out of the office. He turned around.

"Keep an eye on Sherlock for me. He can be rather tenacious and it's not always to his advantage."

* * *

Ianto and Tosh took the bodies from a very polite and accommodating morgue attendant named Molly. She seemed to buy their story about being from the World Health Organization and she mentioned that there was quite a lot of interest in them and offered to get them coffee while they waited. At this Tosh laughed and then when Molly went to retrieve the paperwork to go with the cadavers, she leaned in to tell Ianto that it was Sherlock who had been interested.

After they had the bodies in the ice truck they stopped by Sherlock's flat to pick up squid neurons and fingers from his fridge and then they went to a medical supply store for glassware.

The last place they went to was a shady pharmacy. Following instructions Sherlock left for him they were able to pick up several bottles of lab grade chemicals that typically had to be ordered and shipped. Two of these bottles were full of compounds that were not supposed to be available to the public.

"He certainly has his connections in order." Ianto commented as they drove back to the hub.

"That he does, he's an interesting man; pretty well known among those that like to keep a nose in police business."

"He's very eccentric. Do you think that his involvement with Torchwood will draw unwanted attention?"

Tosh hadn't considered this "I hope not."

* * *

_Alright we are in the latter half of the story now! Unfortunately I'm heading back to work and school starts up at the end of the month so updates are going back to biweekly instead of weekly. Once again thank you for reading!_


	17. Chapter 17

Ianto delivered a tray of sandwiches to Tosh, Gwen, Sherlock, and John for lunch. As they ate in the conference room, Tosh and Gwen told them about the backgrounds of the victims of the blindness, skipping over Mrs. Hudson since they already knew plenty about her.

"How was the hotel?" Gwen asked to make conversation as well as to assure they were happy staying there,

"It was vey nice," John replied, and Sherlock shifted his weight in his chair.

"That's good, I'm glad you liked it. Don't hesitate to ask if you need anything."

"Alright, we should head to the computer bay to watch and listen to the tapes. Audio's better in there," Tosh told them as everyone finished up their meals.

She led the way to the station of computers and set John and Sherlock up with headphones.

"Right, these are the headphones, you're going to need to put them on and then follow the instructions on the screen."

John took a headset and examined them. "Wow these are incredible," he commented turning them over in his hands with a grin.

"They're adapted from alien technology, they individualize to the person wearing them using a computer program as well integration of the as the wearers voice, since how you hear turns out to be related to how you speak."

"It's called the auditory feedback loop. Understanding how it works can explain how speech patterns develop accents in other parts of the world and can also pinpoint subtleties such as class and ethic background. It's proved an exceedingly useful tool on more than one occasion." Sherlock nodded at Tosh.

It took a few minutes as they had to run a program to optimize and customize the headphones to John and Sherlocks hearing abilities using a computer program.

Gwen brought them legal pads and pen in case they wanted to take notes while Tosh programmed the interviews to run one after the other the last one being the most recent- Ted's.

After the headphones were programmed Tosh asked if they were ready and they nodded. She hit start.

* * *

For the better part of three hours John and Sherlock sat listening to the interviews. John occasionally shifted his weight and scribbled down illegible notes, but Sherlock had tucked his feet under himself and closed his eyes within five minutes of listening to the first interview and he hadn't moved a muscle since.

While the tapes played Tosh and Gwen worked at other computers. Gwen was rereading the files Owen had found and Tosh was running basic security scans and wiping the most recent mentions of Torchwood from the web. A series of short beeps signaled to them that the recordings were about to end, so they wrapped up what they were doing and headed over to sit near the others so they could discuss the interviews.

The tape stopped and Sherlock opened his eyes and looked up at them.

"And neither of you thought Ted was behaving strangely?" He asked incredulously.

"We figured he was excited about Torchwood, nervous about us being there-" Gwen started her voice taking on a defensive edge. The middle was a strange place to start conversation

"And the theatrics?" he asked sharply, the question was rhetorical. Tosh opened her mouth to speak but Sherlock continued giving her a condescending look. "The theatrics were a show, his one word answers were him losing his nerve, he's still hiding something."

John looked at Sherlock and cocked his head to the side as if asking an unsaid question. At this the corner of Sherlock's mouth twitched up and he gave a nearly imperceptible nod.

Tosh recalled the inexplicable and unsettling feeling that Ted was lying she had moments before he admitted to depriving people of their ability to taste. She had thought that this confession about himself was the source of his fidgety dishonesty. She raked her minds for what else he could be hiding.

Sherlock sat waiting for them to catch up.

"The flatmate?" Gwen said voicing the idea at the precise moment that the thought crossed Tosh's mind.

"Or somebody." Tosh amended.

"I'm sorry that's not vague enough for me. Could you be a little less specific?" Sherlock replied, irritation loud in his voice.

"How could we know? A friend most likely."

"Closer. He is protecting somebody."

"Protecting them from...from Torchwood?"

"Well who else!? My lord! And you're supposed to be the brightest in your field!" He responded getting up and pacing across the concrete floor. Ted no doubt was also protecting the agents from his friend.

"Did you hear the strength return to his voice, near the end of the conversation?" John interjected.

"Oh my god." Tosh said quietly as the realization struck. Ted wasn't bolstered by the fact that he had a few moments to compose himself while he packed. He had visited whoever he was leaving behind, reassuring them that the plan had worked.

"Glad you're catching up."

"Then why would he try to get our attention? He told Laura he knew something."

"Whoever he's protecting needs our help. He doesn't trust us with them, but he's afflicted as well. He handed himself over in hopes that we could find the cure."

"Yes and now look at the state he's in." Sherlock could almost hear Mycroft's voice 'caring is not an advantage.'

"We'll go talk to Jack, and then see if we can find any traces of him in the flat. We should also interview Ted again."

"Her." They stopped gathering the file and looked at him waiting for explanation. "The person he is protecting is a woman."


End file.
